


At Swim, Two Boys

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's summer. It's hot. The boys cool down. And heat up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Swim, Two Boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andchaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/gifts).



Everyone’s gone to bed, but Ian’s still in the pool, arms over the side, body floating. With his eyes closed all he can do is listen to the sounds of the night. The cars on the street and the distant ring of gunshots. He can hear a couple fighting a ways away, but he can’t make out the words. 

The water is cool, warmed all day by the sun and just now starting to turn cold as it nears two. It’s not often that there’s quiet around the Gallagher house, so he’s reveling in every second of it. When he hears the noise, he forces himself to keep his eyes closed. He knows if he looks, everything will change and it’ll be like a frightening an animal.

Instead he just sits there, head tilted back until he hears the hushed flow of water and the ripples lap at his bare chest. Ian opens one eye and glances over at Mickey. He’s on the opposite side of the pool and he looks like he’ll bolt if Ian breathes wrong.

“Hey,” Ian whispers.

Mickey nods and looks around. They’re mostly in darkness since half the streetlights are out and the ones that aren’t don’t really reach the pool. Ian had been sure to turn the porch light out after everyone had gone up, before he’d snuck out. Mickey’s image shimmers in the water like a ghost and Ian’s careful not to move. 

“What brings you here?”

“You fucking invited me.” Mickey’s voice is a hard whisper, like he’s daring Ian to call him a liar. Ian had invited him. They’d fucked in the freezer and then in the dugout, stopping when it got late and Ian knew his family would start to worry, when the humidity hung in the air and bathed them in sweat so that pressing against one another was like adding fuel to a furnace.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I didn’t come for you. You said it’d be cool and it’s too fucking hot to sleep.” 

Ian cocks an eyebrow and slides into the water up to his neck. Mickey’s wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, and it clings to him. Ian wants him to take his shirt off since this is the one place in public they can get away with it, but he knows if he suggests it, it’ll give Mickey another reason to take off. “I still didn’t think you’d come. Just to spite me.”

“Fuck you. Not cutting off my nose to spite my face. It’s like a sauna in my house, and it smells like someone took a fucking dump.”

“So it’s all like normal then?”

Mickey’s eyes narrow. “What’d you say?”

Ian can’t help smiling. “You heard what I said.”

“You sayin’ Gallagher shit don’t stink?”

Ian inhales deeply. “There’s only one thing I smell.” 

Mickey lunges for him and Ian ducks, going under the water and twisting to the left. He surfaces and Mickey’s sputtering. “You’re a fucking asshole. And you’re going _down_.”

Ian takes a face full of water when Mickey splashes him, and it turns into an all-out war. They don’t say a word, just push waves of water into each others’ faces until Mickey jumps on Ian’s back and shoves his head under the water. Ian manages to get out from under him, and they spend a good half an hour dunking each other.

“Truce?” Ian asks softly finally when they’re both breathing too hard to keep going. Mickey looks suspicious but nods. He keeps an eye on Ian as Ian moves closer and Ian can see Mickey’s breathing hitch as Ian’s hands settle on his hips. He slides his hands under Mickey’s shirt, thumbs rubbing against his smooth skin. “Should take this off.”

“Hey.”

It’s not even a real protest, so Ian ignores it. “You’re in a pool. And it’s night. Not like you’re going to get sunburnt.” He pushes the shirt up a little ways, pausing every inch or so. He keeps his eyes on Mickey’s face, watching for panic or anger. Instead Mickey just shivers as Ian gets it up to his chest, thumbs on Mickey’s nipples. 

They’re hard and tight and Ian moans softly beneath his breath. Mickey makes a noise low in his throat and lifts his arms up over his head. Ian gets his shirt the rest of the way off and tosses it across the rim of the pool. Ian licks his lips and leans in, nuzzling Mickey’s jaw. He can feel Mickey tense, knows he wants to push Ian off, but he doesn’t.

“Mick,” Ian breathes. It’s hot against Mickey’s damp skin and they both shiver. Ian wants to touch him everywhere. Wants to taste him. Wants to kiss him. He knows Mickey won’t let him. Knows that sounds too much like something couples would do, something people who give a shit about each other would do, and that’s not what they are. It’s what Ian wants, and Mickey would rather slit his own throat than admits he wants it too, but Ian knows. Somehow he knows.

He moves closer and presses Mickey against the wall of the pool. Ian can feel Mickey’s nipples against his chest and he lifts one hand so that he can rub one with his thumb. Mickey tries not to move, but something shimmers through his body. His mouth falls open wordlessly when Ian pinches, scratches it with his thumbnail, rubs over it again and again. 

This is Ian’s favorite thing about Mickey. The way he’s so responsive. The way he surrenders. Mickey would kill Ian if he said it out loud, but the minute Ian touches Mickey, he gives in. It’s heady and powerful and Ian wants to push and take advantage, but he knows if he goes too far – if he takes instead of letting Mickey give – Mickey’ll walk away. He doesn’t know how he knows that either, but he does.

He lifts his other hand and starts in on Mickey’s other nipple, teasing both of them until Mickey’s choking back strangled moans and his body is arched up toward Ian’s. Mickey’s skin glows in the faint light and all Ian wants to do is darken it with his mouth. He wants to suck and bite bruises onto Mickey’s skin until his body’s covered with them, until he’s marked up as Ian’s.

Ian bends his head and licks along Mickey’s clavicle, nipping at the thin skin over the bone. Mickey’s head falls back and Ian huffs against his skin, moving down a little more to take Mickey’s nipple in his mouth. 

“Christ,” Mickey gasps. He fists a hand in Ian’s hair as Ian sucks and bites at Mickey’s chest. “Jesus, Ian. W-what the fuck are you...”

Ian catches the nipple in his teeth and sucks harder, flicking his tongue across the skin. Mickey rises up onto his toes and Ian skims his hands down Mickey’s sides, reaching to undo the fly of Mickey’s cut-off jeans. He’s thick and hard in Ian’s hand, and Mickey thrusts into his fist. 

Ian bites Mickey’s nipple hard. Mickey gasps and Ian releases his nipple, moving closer and buries his head against Mickey’s neck. He sucks there, teeth scraping, as he jerks Mickey slowly. “Taste so good.”

“I-ian.”

Ian bites Mickey’s earlobe then sucks on it. Mickey hisses, but his head falls to the side, giving Ian more access. He leaves a trail of hickeys down Mickey’s throat as he strokes him, and he can tell Mickey’s close to the edge by the way he’s breathing, panting and shuddering against Ian. “Gonna fuck you.”

Mickey whimpers and his whole body goes stiff as he comes. Ian doesn’t care that they’re making a mess in the pool. All he cares about is the way Mickey’s body is trembling like he’s fighting not to fly apart. He opens his eyes and all Ian can see is dark. Mickey looks at Ian’s face and then down at his mouth. “Do it.”

“I have stuff upstairs.”

Mickey jerks his head slightly and turns around, pushing his shorts down to his ankles. He grabs the side of the pool and bends forward, face almost in the water. “Do it.”

Ian reaches down and rubs Mickey’s hole. Mickey hisses and presses back and Ian pushes his finger in slowly. Mickey’s whole body constricts around him, and Ian stills. After a moment that seems to last forever, Mickey relaxes slightly and Ian starts to move his hand, his finger. He doesn’t know how long it takes to get Mickey relaxed enough to take his cock, but by the time Ian pushes inside him, the water is cold and they’re both shivering and covered in goose bumps, and the sun is filtering red and gold light faintly over the rooftops.

Ian puts his hands over Mickey’s on the rim of the pool and thrusts, barely moving his hips. He’s buried as deep as possible, and all he can feel is Mickey against his chest, around him. He starts rolling his hips a little harder, pulling out a little bit more each time so he can push in again. He kisses Mickey’s neck and looks down, seeing Mickey’s hard cock in the water. 

Ian sucks another trail of bruises along Mickey’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he keeps fucking him. It burns against Ian’s dick and he can only imagine how Mickey feels. Ian reaches the edge quickly, but he’s not surprised since he’s been building up to it since he touched Mickey’s dick. Since Mickey climbed in the pool. 

Mickey rests his head on Ian’s shoulder. His eyes are closed and he’s leaning on Ian. Ian reaches down and wraps his hand around Mickey’s cock again, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with the stroke of his hand. Ian holds off as long as he can, his hips thrusting hard and his pelvis flat against Mickey’s ass as he comes. He squeezes Mickey’s dick hard and Mickey comes again with a rough sound.

Ian wraps his arm around Mickey’s waist, not letting him go. Mickey’s sagging against him, body plastered to Ian’s. Ian yawns without meaning too and Mickey’s mouth curves in a smile. “I wear you out, Gallagher?”

“Give me five minutes and then ask.” Ian pants out a laugh. “You feel so fucking good, Mick.”

Mickey hums and opens his eyes, glancing at the horizon. “I gotta go.”

“Don’t.”

“Gotta. Shit to do.” Ian knows it’s nothing more than the fact that Mickey’s not going to be caught dead in a compromising position with him. He knows he should be thankful he got this, that Mickey came over and stayed. And he is. But he wants more.

“We could go out to breakfast.”

Mickey pulls away and Ian wants to follow him, stay pressed against him. “You’re shit at understanding no.”

“People who aren’t fucking have breakfast together. Besides, we work together.”

Mickey turns around and looks at Ian. In the sunrise Ian can see all the dark bruises he left littered on Mickey’s skin. “Don’t, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because this was good. And now you’re gonna fucking ruin it with this shit.” Mickey ducks under the water to grab his shorts and pulls them up, fastening them. He wipes the thick trail of come that sticks to his face off with the back of his hand. He boosts himself up the ladder and climbs out, and Ian watches as the water sluices off of him. Mickey grabs his shirt and puts it on, looking at Ian when he gets it over his head. “Let it go.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Mickey looks at Ian and bites his lower lip. Ian’s not sure if it’s wishful thinking that maybe Mickey looks like this isn’t what he wants either. “Then you’re gonna be really fucking disappointed.” Mickey shoves his feet into his tennis shoes and starts toward the alley. “Tell Linda I’m gonna be late.”

“Tell her yourself.”

“She likes you though. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t like me. She just hates me less. Of course. I think she hates everyone less than she hates you.”

Mickey walks backwards, smiling at Ian as he flips him off. “See ya in a couple hours, asshole.”


End file.
